Darkness
by Kotarou-sama
Summary: The scattered street lights only makes the ink black night stand out more, and it seemed as if even the moon brought no illumination.
1. Chapter 1

_The blue eyes glowed in the darkness_

_Following the new scent in its territory_

* * *

**I**

**The Hunt**

* * *

I was walking down the dark street; night comes quickly in the countryside, and it is an overwhelming blackness. The scattered street lights only makes the ink black night stand out more, and it seemed as if even the moon brought no illumination. My pace was slow, too slow, I started moving faster. Fear, no perhaps more like fright. I moved along the street, I could feel eyes on me. It felt like I was being hunted, no not hunt observed, someone was watching following. The chase moved down the last stretch I was nearing my goal, the local inn I was staying at. But I knew this was not the time to relax yet, _'when you drop your guard; that is when the enemy strikes.'_ The words of old combat instructor rang out in my head.

Fifty feet to the door, I moved my hand to my concealed sidearm.

Forty feet to the door, again I could feel someone studying me from afar.

Thirty feet to the door, I released the safety on my sidearm.

Twenty feet to the door, this time the feeling of someone was closer.

Ten feet to the door, I lifted my sidearm halfway out of the holster.

Zero feet to the door, I reached out and opened it.

Stepping inside the old in I closed the door behind me, paranoia is a valuable asset in my line of work, but still… limits. I removed my hand from the sidearm and took off my boots, putting on slippers I walked towards my room. The hallway was only lit with a few small yellow lights, just enough to make it not quite darkness. As I stepped into my room the feeling of being observed returned, I turned on the lights checking to see if anyone was there. Nothing, or at least no one was in my room beside myself. I opened my backpack and took out a scanner; systematically I moved it across the room looking for listening devices. There weren't any, not that I could find anyway, packing away the tools I turned off the light. And it was back, the feeling of being watched.

From outside perhaps, peering through the window all I could see was black night and twinkling stars. But the feeling didn't go away, I was certain now whoever it was, they knew that I was not just a tourist coming through the village. My mind raced who could figure it out; I had left nothing at the inn while I took an evening stroll through the streets. My backpack hadn't been opened since I arrived, and tonight was the first time in three days that I had put my hand on my sidearm. No one should have a clue, but still someone out knew more and followed me. Carefully I took out a motion sensor, and then I placed it on the wall so it would cover both the window and the door.

While the uncomfortable gaze was still on me, I moved down under my covers and tried to sleep. The sleep was light I woke up many times through the night, again feeling the gaze on me. All I could do now was try to at least get a little shuteye, all the while planning my outing for tomorrow. First I would have to go around the village, learning the layout of the streets. Second I would eat, before going up to the local shrine festival. Third I would, would… I would sleep…

I woke up, when did I fall asleep…? Well it was morning and the feeling of being observed was gone, birds were chirping outside the window and a morning fog had rolled in. Leaving the bed I walked to the bath room and started removing my clothes, first my sweater, then the constricting Kevlar vest and the pistol holster, my leather pants and socks was next. I looked the in mirror; the reflection staring back at me looked tired. All that was left was my underwear and my hair band. I turned on the shower to let the water heat up, while I removed the last of the fabric.

The water felt comforting on my skin, heating me up and removing the sweat from last night's paranoia. I listened to the sound of water falling; it helped to calm me down. I started to wash my hair; the smell of shampoo was pleasant, lavender. It felt like I could stay in the shower forever, but my stomach was telling me to get back to reality. The thought of food made me hurry, I stepped out of the shower and started to dry myself off. Wrapped in a towel I started to blow dry my long hair. It really was a pain but short hair would look terrible on me, I knew that much from my youthful mistakes. Getting dressed was by no means an easy task; leather pants and damp skin just don't mix.

Once I had put on the Kevlar vest and pistol holster, I could finally stop feeling naked. I stretched my arms and legs, making sure that my clothing were all in the right places. Putting on a thin sweater, I went down stairs to eat breakfast. The smell of the food was enticing, and as I stepped into the dining hall I could see a gorgeous breakfast spread. I sat at the table getting ready to eat, when the innkeeper came into the room carrying a tray with hot tea. There was nothing left to do but eat, and the food was exquisite. When did I last have such a wonderful breakfast, thinking back the answer was easy to find, before my older sister died. Before mother went mad, before the world around me became black. Pulling myself from the negative thoughts I returned to reality, and the delicious food in front of me.

Walking out of the inn the street that was making my heart beat so fast last night, looked quiet and peaceful. There was not a hint of anyone following me either, only the birds chirping and the morning fog so common in the mountains. The first order of business was to memorise the streets, taking out my cell phone I opened the app that contained a pre downloaded map and satellite photo of the area. Walking the streets and memorising the map is a necessary skill, and I had done it before both in Kabul and Washington. This time it was a sleepy mountain village, well it had developed a bit beyond the term village with multiple streets and a real shopping district that even had a bookstore and supermarket. All in all it was modern enough that someone like me from the big city could stay without going insane from boredom, and it still managed to feel like a village.

Wait, that's odd, a strange sensation overcame me. Taking two steps back and looking around, to my left there is a house and the map just shows a yellow-orange area. But the satellite image, it shows a road, that satellite image is less than sixty hours old. And what's more, I am quite certain I walked down that road last night. Walking up to the house where the road was supposed to be, I placed my hand on the stone wall. A bit of tapping on the wall confirmed that it was solid, and there were no fresh paint on my hands to indicate that it was recently made. Leaving this part of the mystery alone for now, I plotted a course to the other end of the disappearing road.

Just as I took the first step, there was a sound of small bells. It was accompanied by a melodic giggle and the smell burning incense. My senses told me that someone was watching me, but even with the small streaks of sunlight coming through the trees, I still couldn't see anyone in the area. Slowly I started moving down the road, the sound of bells and the smell of incense disappeared. Turning the final corner I came to where the small street was supposed be, or so I thought. Instead I found myself at the end a road, a dead-end by looks of it. There was a small café in an area otherwise filled with residential houses, the café staffs were getting ready for business. Checking my cell phone to see where I took a wrong turn, it looked like I had turned right instead of left.

Normally one would put it down to _'shit happens'_ but I had spent quite a few years training so that these things don't happen, at all. Not to mention the government had spent millions to pay for said training. So now I was on alert, it could be drugs that would be the easiest way to confuse someone, or perhaps hypnotism but that seemed harder to pull off. Checking for drugs would be impossible, but it would be easy to get them out of the system since they were most likely ingested. I walked into the café; a woman in her, well over thirty anyway, was manning the register. I asked her for a bottle of water, as she went to get my water I grabbed the salt on all the tables. Mixing water and salt is a quick way to clear out stomach contents as well as any drugs there might be.

Sitting on the bathroom floor of the café, the delicious breakfast was reduced to nothing more than waste in the toilet. Still I had the feeling that there was something wrong, so I started to check my body for needle marks. There were a few places I couldn't check thoroughly, but I was confident that the drugs were not injected. So that left the only possible conclusion – inhalation. Not the most effective way but certainly the most troublesome, all I could do was to write a note and take a blood sample to send back to headquarters.

Leaving the bathroom behind I walked back into the café, the woman at the register looked troubled. She most likely heard me emptying my stomach in that very effective and honestly disgusting way, but more surprising she handed me a cup of coffee to remove the foul taste in my mouth. While drinking the coffee I ordered something to replace my wasted breakfast, the café also clearly served as the local bakery so there was plenty of cakes and rolls to try. In particular the cinnamon buns smelled delicious, they were just what the doctor ordered, well if the doctor was me anyway.

Two cinnamon buns, a large piece of chocolate cake and several croissants later I walked out of the café feeling content. Just as I stepped on the road I heard the jingling of small bells, remembering what had happened before I held my breath while I looked around. Still there was nothing to see, but just like last time a beautiful melodic giggle could be heard. I covered my nose I had a feeling this might be part of some hypnotism, sealing the fate of the victim if the immediately inhaled whatever was blown with the wind.

Turning to look upwind I saw something move, it wasn't much just a piece of cloth the twice size of a hand. But it had moved across the wind direction so it was definitely attached to something larger, running towards where the cloth had been I could feel my sixth sense warning me of the coming danger. Turning the corner I saw something move down a side road further ahead, picking up speed ran as fast as I could until I reached the corner. Just as I turned I saw something further ahead, falling in a low crouch I went for my pistol. Just as I was about to pull it, I finally noticed what was in the street. Well it was - a fox. A brown fox… a very large brown fox… a very large brown fox wearing two small bells around its neck. And in a flash it was gone.

I had almost shot a fox, well it was awfully big, but still that would be animal cruelty, and it would most likely get me fired. Leaving thoughts of the fox behind I walked back towards the centre of the village, I was in desperate need of a shower and I needed to mail the blood sample I had taken earlier. The post office was just a corner in the, by big city standards, small supermarket, the package would be picked up when the postal truck showed up around noon. I browsed the magazine stands in the supermarket, looking for something interesting to spend the next few hours with. There were a few of the housewife magazines and a few on fashion, but nothing I hadn't read while at the dentist last week. The only thing that really stood out was _'Monthly Motorcycle'_ so that had to be my choice of reading material, well that's okay with me.

As I left the supermarket I could again feel the eyes of someone studying me, the uncomfortable gaze of a predator. But at least it was daytime, so it would whoever it was would be hard pressed to do a surprise attack. I returned to the task at hand, walking around the village, learning the streets. Still the gaze lingered, even when I went in circles or doubled back, all the tricks I was taught in counter surveillance were drawing blanks. I know I'm not the most skilled in the world, but still between the clear sensation of being watched and the almost empty streets, it should be impossible to hide.

Well anyway all this walking had given me a good sense of the layout, my mental map was now working and I should be able to navigate without much trouble. I bought a bottle of water in a vending machine near the small train station, checking the time table there was another two hours till the next train. Taking sip from the bottle I started walking towards the first mystery of the day, the disappearing road. Discreetly I took out a handkerchief and soaked it in water from the bottle, it wouldn't be very effective but it might just give me the few seconds needed to escape.

As I neared the, to me infamous, street, I could tell something had gone wrong this morning. The satellite image showed the street and so did the map, but it was two houses further down the road. It was certain that my mind didn't quite function this morning, the stressful walk last night combined with the mountain fog in the morning; well that's probably why I couldn't find the street. As I walked down the street I could recognise it from last night, and both the satellite image and the map showed me where I was. This could mean that my phone was not receiving GPS signals properly, or worse someone had been jamming them.

I started looking through my backpack I knew I had a map with latitude and longitude, which combined with the raw data readout on my phone would tell me if I was still in Kansas so to speak. Well I was still where I was supposed to be, but the historical data from this showed something much more interesting - it was off, by twenty metres north-east. That explains why I couldn't find the street, and it was an indication that the signal had been jammed. As a precaution I sent a message back to headquarters, attaching the data from my phone.

After spending another twenty minutes walking the area, I headed towards the small café I found this morning. This time there was a man in his forties or fifties at the register, as well as multiple customers. But that part wasn't a real surprise the cake here was absolutely delicious, no, the real surprise was the man. He was tall and muscular quite handsome, that part was perfectly normal, or at least not something I would really care about, no he was trained the same training I had. The way he was standing, the way he scanned the shop even when talking to customers,  
the way he immediately noticed _me_.

Rarely in my adult life had I been afraid, not even last night could even begin to measure up to the fear I had now. This man was an operative, spy, spook, agent, intelligence officer, call it what you like, this man was trained to kill and I was standing in his crosshairs. Out of reflex I had placed my hand on my sidearm; he too had his hand behind his back. All we needed was tumbleweed blowing between us, and it would be the perfect western quick draw. That and some large hats, and moustache, and dessert, and well who cares what was missing. Were we about to have a shootout in the café…?

Slowly the man reached into his back pocket, I focused on the grip of my pistol. I had to watch two hands at the same time, and then he slowly retrieved something. I only noticed that it was black and not a pistol, he moved the object straight into my line of sight. Quickly I grasped the situation; he was at the very least not an immediate threat, it was a _'retired'_ badge from police intelligence. Seeing me relax slightly he put away the badge before any of the customers would notice, and slowly removed his hand from what I would assume was a pistol.

I took a seat near the door where I could see the man; I was not ready to turn my back on him just yet. A waitress came over she was older than me but not yet in her thirties, and she too carried herself like the man, but not to the same extent like someone trained but with little or no experience. A simple guess really, this was his daughter and he had trained her from birth, so she could deal with muggers and other dangers women face walking alone at night. I placed an order with her, she was pretty, and she carefully wrote down my order of cinnamon rolls and coffee.

Waiting was harsh, but I used the time to read the magazine I had bought earlier in the supermarket. There were some good articles on the latest motorcycle safety gear, as well as on crime prevention. Also I found an in depth article on the latest Harley, not really my thing, but the article was well written and helped pass the time. Just as had started to read the waitress came back with my order, I thanked her and she went back to wiping the tables. I spent nearly two hours in the café, the man standing at the counter had not moved even once, and he was still evaluating me. We both knew what we were, and I had been brazen enough to sit down and eat right in front of him, even reading a magazine and texting. Still there was no reason for me to believe that the badge he had shown was real, but I could always find out later.

Well later would come immediately because just as I left the café my phone pinged, alerting me to a message. All it contained was a picture of the man I had met, and the word _'GREEN'_ this meant that he wasn't lying about anything. His badge was real, and he was armed. It was around noon now and I was still hungry, so I walked back to the supermarket to buy a fresh sandwich. Also this gave me a perfect excuse to watch the postal truck pick up my package, well as long as I made it in time.

As I approached the supermarket there were no signs of any trucks, so I went inside to buy a sandwich. On the way out I casually peeked at the postal office, well corner really but…, and I could see my package was still there right where it had been place hours earlier. But still there was no reason not to make sure it would leave this place in one piece, so I picked up some of the longest and most boring forms available near the postal office. The first one was for shipping oversized dangerous goods abroad; it would take at least twenty minutes to fill this one out, with fake information of course. After five minutes I was seriously regretting my choice of cover, it was simply too boring and my hand was cramping from writing so many details. But luck comes to those who wait; a short while anyway. A man in a postal uniform delivered one large crate containing letters and packages and took the one from the tiny office; I followed him out of the supermarket and watched as he loaded it up on in the panel van.

The van looked real but just to be sure I used my cell phone to run the licence plate, the answer was that the plate was from the postal works and it also contained the vehicle id number, which also matched the van. All in all I had to assume that my blood sample would be delivered at the lab tomorrow. I followed the postal van with my eyes as it sped down the road, when it was no longer in sight I started to make my way towards the bookstore.

It was clearly a countryside bookstore, besides the latest bestsellers most of the store was filled with books on mechanics, gardening, crops and school textbooks. But the owner still kept an interesting number fiction books, most of it was rather niche like magical girl this and fighter boy that, but also there were some decent sci-fi stories in between all the kiddie material. I picked two novels that piqued my interest, one was a suspense/horror thing the other was a sci-fi/romance. This should come in handy if I have to stay here for too long.

Next I passed by the local real-estate agent, I would need a place to stay if the mission here dragged on. There were only a few real options; apartments were out due to the number of exits, including windows of course. Large estates were too much work and attracted too much attention. Not that there was really that many apartments or estates to choose from, I could them on one hand, with fingers to spare. That left me with single family houses, and from there I could narrow it down to three choices. I would have to spend the next few hours walking around and looking at the potential safe houses.

The first house was a relatively new two story house built in a modern style. It had a driveway and the front lawn was no bigger than a post stamp, this meant low maintenance, a plus, but it lacked a garage so there were no real options for storage. The neighbourhood was decent but the backyard connected directly into the surrounding gardens. Even worse the local school was just around the corner, the noise was a minor issue but I'd rather not have fifty children around during a shootout. So on to the next.

The second house was an old –ancient– single story building, and well it looked a lot worse than the photo the estate agent had. It would take some effort to get this place in shape, but that also meant that I could make alterations to the layout inside. However the garden was quite big –huge– and the maintenance would be dreadful, the lack of garage was not a big issue if I could alter the inside, but still… But worst of all, there was public forest less than thirty feet from the left side of the house. It also had that abandoned vibe going on…

The third house, well of course this is the winner as I saved the best for last, it was new single story house built in an old-fashioned style. There was a small front yard, one that would not require too much work. There was a garage that was part of the house; this meant I had a place for storage. The house was not too large for only one person, yet it could easily accommodate a roommate or two. Behind the house there was a nice backyard which was surrounded by a wall, and a small path ran between the yards.

Well this is definitely the best possible safe house here, so I took out my cell phone and called the real-estate agent. A meeting was set for the next day just before noon; I had given him my cover name which I was using during my work here. The house had been on the market for a while so he was eager to get a customer. Now I had to report this to headquarters so they could put enough money into my cover bank account, and set my credit rating at an appropriate level.

By the way, my cover is as a crime author. This is practical as I can walk around day and night, looking for _'inspiration'_ and just who would suspect if a crime author shows up at a crime scene? That's called research, not loitering. Plus I can talk to people and ask questions without being suspicious, strangers coming and going from my house would just be editors, not fodder for the local rumour mill about my night life.

Well, they did say that this _might_ be a long mission, which from my experience means either less than forty-eight hours or more than four months. So house hunting and fiddling with my cover was time well spent. I may have just wasted a bit of time waiting for orders to end this, or I had to stay here for a long time. This takes me back to the first time I got a long mission; I waited three weeks before establishing a safe house. The hotel staffs were nice, but when I extended my stay for the third time they became suspicious.

Ever since that embarrassment, civilians accurately guessing at your real job, I have made it a point to establish a safe house as soon as possible. Now what should I do for the rest of the afternoon, with many hours left to spend I wandered back into the shopping district. The most interesting thing was two housewives gossiping, about an abandoned house in the outskirts of the city. The husband of one of the wives had seen lights in the windows, as well as a shadow moving around.

Well that was rather boring, squatters in an old house. That's not even novel enough to register on the scale of interesting, but still I made a mental note of this since you never know what information might be useful. Now on to _'gossip central'_ also known as the hairdresser, this place would like have all kinds of stories about the people living nearby. Walking through the door I could see that I might just be in luck, there were several customers and two hairdressers working. Gossip was flying left and right as walked to the counter, all I needed was a light trim so they could squeeze me in between two appointments.

Taking a seat in one of the waiting chairs I started to listen in. There was something about a house cat missing, and several pets had disappeared in the area. They reached the conclusion that a large animal from the forest might be to blame, well there was that mighty large fox earlier. Another conversation went on and on about how her petunias were suddenly dying left and right, it was quite boring really but its part of my job to listen to these stories. Then another housewife started talking about the upcoming festival this evening, and that the inn had many customers this year so there would be crowded. Then the wife of the station manger talked about how her husband had to work tonight, since there would be extra trains running to bring tourist to the festival.

Then another wife complained how the tourist would litter streets, and how trouble makers might come just for a chance to create trouble, her husband the local police officer had requested extra men from the next city over. Now that was interesting, she is the wife of the local police officer. Then one of the hairdressers put her two cents on the matter, that all the tourists were good for local business. The housewives agreed, but still talked worriedly about trouble makers and how that could only hurt business. Well besides learning of missing pets and dead petunias, it had been a bit informative, and with that the second hairdresser finished and called me over.

Well this placed the spotlight on me, as I was a stranger to the village. Now it was time to work my cover, and have it spread far and wide by nightfall. First step was to politely introduce myself, using my cover name and my telling them that I was an author, writing crime fiction. Then after the housewives introduced themselves, I sat in the barber chair and talked about how lovely I found this village, not too big or small, and that I actually was thinking of moving here if I could find a house.

The wife of the police officer told me how her husband was quite the fan of crime novels, since the worst things happing here was littering. And how she would love to get him a signed edition of my book, well truthfully I had been an author for less than a day but _'funny papers inc.'_ had changed that in a matter of minutes, there was both a _'mybook'_ and _'facespace'_ page which had been around for last few years, apparently. There was also twenty-five thousand copies of my latest bestseller, which I had no knowledge of writing, hot of the press.

Then the housewife with the dying petunias cut in, her husband was the local real-estate agent I had talked to earlier, she would go home and to make sure I could close the deal on a house tomorrow. Well there really wasn't a problem with that, and getting a discount on the property would look nice on my after-action report, money was tight all around even in well funded government agencies.

Then the hairdresser asked what techniques I used to write, well I had no clue I wasn't I writer after all just ask my supervisor the reports I file could often be written in a matchbook, but still I had to give a plausible answer here. Wracking my brain for what seemed like a long time, I used the idea of flowing water, something like I just let the words run out of body, and when I was done it had to be edited. This slightly artistic answer went down well with the housewife crowd, and conversation moved to what this village had to offer.

This part of the conversation was not that interesting as it was just a sales pitch, but still I paid attention. First they talked about the local school, land was plentiful so it was quite big, but there weren't many students, less than fifty, distributed across the nine years of mandatory education. But while there weren't many students, all the villagers helped with the education and the academic level was quite high, well there were almost as many teachers as there were students.

Again I was reminded just how much I would like to live in this village, if my life had been normal. As the talking continued I heard about the shopping district and how they helped keeping the village alive, and how the mayor had personally invested large sums of money to upgrade the internet connection that went to the village. The housewives also added talked about the cable TV something that was added with the internet connection, this was a novelty in the countryside and they were surprised that there were so many channels to choose from.

The wife of the station manger talked about how there were plans for laying new track and getting more modern trains to the local line, this would cut down travel time to the nearby big city from more than an hour to less than forty minutes. Again the conversation shifted, this time the hairdresser told that one of the village residents was planning to open an electronics and appliance store, they talked about how nice it would be to get new vacuum cleaners without having to drive all the way to the city.

And there was more on the way, just outside the village a local wife had decided to open a gardening centre. The wife with the dying petunias was ecstatic, now she could replace her plants without having to go far away. Then the conversation shifted to the troubled youth, well they weren't that troubled, but many of the teenagers would meet up at the old cement factory on the outskirts of the village. The older ones that had licence for light motorcycles would often race each other, but with all the outlying farms the village had a culture of motorcycles and almost everyone, including the three housewives and the two hairdressers, had a licence.

As everyone in the salon started to reminiscence about their misspent youth, and how they still would on occasion borrow a motorcycle to drive around. The mood had gotten a little too pink for my taste, with middle aged women talking like little schoolgirls, and my haircut had been done for a while, so I paid my bill and bid them good day. Taking a closer look at the shopping district, I noted that the selection was quite good for such a small place.

More people had filled the streets and it was clear that there was a festival later this evening, many were dressed nicely and excitement was slowly filling the air. Still there was a while before sunset and the start of the festival, so I decided to spend the time going over the mission brief and checking my equipment. As I started to walk back to the inn I felt it again, someone was looking at me, studying me. However in the crowded streets it would be too difficult to find the person responsible, the inn was just a short walk away so there was no point in trying hard.

With a relaxed stance I walked calmly down the road, the gaze never leaving me. As I stepped inside the innkeeper told me that there would be dinner soon, and to my big surprise she had gone out of her way to get me a nice set of clothes for the festival. I walked to my room, stepping inside I went into the bathroom and took out a manila envelope that contained the mission briefing and assorted information on the village.

Sitting down I started to read, the first part of the mission was to go to the festival, and there I had to be on the lookout for a man suspected of being the ringleader of drug manufacturing group. What I needed to do was take pictures of everyone he would be talking to, since one of them was probably his local manufacturer. Second I was to stay here on standby until they could build a case and make arrests.

There was also a small side job for me; there was a suspicion that there was someone living in the area with ill intentions towards the country. This was not yet confirmed and they had nothing more to go on. Also there had been a few strange events in village which I should, for the sake of not having my supervisor nag me, look in to. Placing the documents back in the envelope I took out my sidearm, slowly I started to take it apart checking each component for cracks and rust.

Tonight I would use my cell phone as the camera; it is after all more discreet then a large DLSR camera. Now I had to get changed, the clothes that the innkeeper had borrowed for me were very beautiful it was a long traditional Japanese kimono in black with a red striped pattern and small yellow highlights; it was masculine in the design but also gave of a feeling of grace, like royalty. I removed my pants and sweater, but keeping my Kevlar vest on started to put on the kimono.

The brown sash was wide enough to hide my sidearm and holster, it was the type that was premade and it even had a small pocket for my cell phone. After putting on the kimono I did my hair, tying it up in two tails with small black hair ties. I hadn't used this hair style in nearly ten years, I was out of practice, so I had to try several times but in the end I got it right. The result was magnificent, as I looked in the mirror I was reminded of just how androgynous I looked. This was one of my specialties, when the job required a man I wore a suit, when the job required a woman I wore a dress. And no one were able tell when I dressed up.

Ready for a night of fun, I mean for work, I walked to the dining room and had a light dinner, the innkeeper commenting on how stunning I was. Well dressed this way both men and women would look at me, but it was all worth it if I could use it to get someone, equally stunning, to escort me around. The sun was about to set, and the innkeeper told me to that now would be a good time to leave.

While boots and kimono was an unorthodox combination, mine were black like the kimono and wouldn't be noticeable to anyone. They would also make it easier to move around when I had to follow my target, and in getting to the festival. Leaving the inn behind I soon found myself in the crowded streets, and everyone was heading for the shrine where the festival would be held.

The road to the shrine was filled with decorations and lanterns were hanging along the sidewalk, it all looked so lively. I was scanning the crowd looking for my target, when again I felt the piercing gaze on me. But unlike the previous times this time I could tell where it was coming from, as I slowly moved towards the gaze it only became more insistent. I was on the steps leading to the shrine further ahead there was a torii, this is where the gaze is coming from.

As I moved closer I saw a girl, around my age with a slim build and auburn hair tied in a lopsided high ponytail. The delicate creamy skin of her neck, effortlessly gave way to a white kimono with a blue wave pattern accentuated with gold stripes and scattered red flowers, the sash around her waist had a steel grey colour. Her thin delicate fingers ended in perfectly manicured nails with a delicate transparent pink nail polish. Slowly she turned to face me, my heart was beating wildly, her wrist and palm came into view it looked so smooth and soft. Glancing upward, I swallowed; her face was covered with a kitsune mask, still it only added to her mysterious beauty.

Slowly she reached out her hand towards me, I was close enough to touch, but I couldn't move a muscle. Rooted to the ground watched as she slowly reached for my hand, the sensation was unbelievable, the softness of the skin and the warmth. I could feel my consciousness fade as she squeezed my hand gently.


	2. Chapter 2 - Partial

_The scent was drifting on the wind tickling the nose_

_It was a sweet mix of sweat and oil_

* * *

**II**

**The Chase**

* * *

It felt like floating, the girl in the mask led me up the steps to the shrine; all I could do was hold her hand. It felt so nice, the soft warmth flowing into my hand; I had never felt like this before. My heart had calmed down but my mind was clouded and everything looked hazy, still I followed the girl.

There were no sounds in the world,  
except the flow of my blood and the beat of my heart.

There were no smells in the world,  
except her sweet scent mixed with oil from my sidearm.

There were no people in the world,  
except her and I.

As we walked the up the steps, my mind slowly returned to reality. As the world around me returned into focus, I started to look for my target and even in the sea of people I had to find him. The girl gently squeezed my hand, I turned to her, her mask had no holes for eyes and covered her whole face. It was a white porcelain kitsune mask with ears, lines were made with red and black, it held gentle expression and mischievous smirk.

Like a child, planning to raid the cookie jar.

Like a parent, eating their child's cookie.

Like a lover, waiting in the bed.

Her moves were graceful, slow, again she squeezed my hand. I followed her outstretched finger, she was pointing towards the festival stalls. I gave her a gentle smile and a slight nod, and then we walked through the crowd towards the stalls. There were food stalls with local specialties, but we passed them by. There were souvenir stalls with all kinds of trinkets, but we passed them by. Then we came to the game stalls with all sorts of challenges.

Holding her hand we walked between the stands, her hand was trembling slightly from excitement. The sensation sent a pleasant numbness up my arm, leaving me in a dazed state. She guided me to a goldfish scooping stand where she sat down, slowly she let go of my hand. The coldness I felt as she released her grip was painful, and filled me with loneliness. I turned to look at her; she was an ethereal beauty. Then her hands moved, the thin delicate fingers flexing, it was fast an almost inhuman speed, like the world struggled to keep up with her pace. She scooped the unwary fish, making them dance in the air before landing in the small bowl.

As quickly as it had begun, it ended. She released the goldfish back into the pool and slightly nodded at the owner. Her scent reached my nose slightly stronger than before, it was the sweet mix of excitement and joy. She slowly, agonizingly slowly, grasped my hand, the impression softness, the sensation of warmth, the feeling of comfort. Again I could feel my consciousness fading away, but the sensation passed and my alertness returned. With the pleasant feeling in my left hand, I started to scan the crowd for my target. Then just like before I felt a gentle squeeze, the pleasant feeling of her hand, I knew she wanted to go somewhere. I turned my attention to her, and she led me to another stall. The game that exists all over the world, rifle shooting, there were cuddly toys and small souvenir items.

Again she squeezed my hand, turned from prizes to look at her. She stood there with a rifle in outstretched hand, trying to hand it to me. Did she know? Did she know that I was a trained marksman, with plenty of experience? Or was it more simple than that, was she just hoping that I would find this game interesting? Whatever the case I slowly let go of her hand, again the numbing cold and feeling of loneliness returned. But in return so did my sharp senses, holding the air rifle I checked the balance. It was a simple bolt-action rifle that fired small pellets using a spring, a magazine holding ten rounds was on the table in front of me. The girl slowly pointed at one of the toys, a cuddly dog? No that's wrong; somehow I knew she would never point at a dog.

Not dwelling on what it was, I focused on acquiring it; it was a seven point target. I took the shooting stance my combat instructor had drilled in to me; I loaded in the magazine and aimed at the first target. Both eyes open, looking through the sights at the target. Gently, like she had been with my hand, I squeezed the cold trigger. A small pop was all the sound that came from the rifle, like the sound of opening a bottle. I watched as the pellet sailed through the air, since I had no experience with toy guns I could use the first shot to adjust my aim. I hit the target, but only barely. The pellet moved in a predictable slightly downward path, but it had also pulled three degrees to the left. I smiled; if the next shot lands perfectly then I am certain of this rifle.

The second pellet went straight through the centre of the paper target. The excitement I had on the shooting range, was coming to me with this simple game, I smiled. Any trained marksman can easily fire a bolt-action rifle at 30 rounds per minutes, and I was class champion in marksmanship. Ten seconds later there were holes in the eight remaining targets, the stall owner looked at the target and then me with a confused expression on his face. The girl was looking at me in what might be excitement; I wasn't sure since the mask covered her face. The stall owner recovered the asked what prize I wanted, unsure I looked to the girl. She pointed at one of the cuddly toys, and I nodded my consent.

She was positively glowing as hugged the toy. Now that I had a chance to look at it close up, I wanted to figure out what it was. As I was studying the animal the girl gently took my hand, as our fingers touched I instantly knew what kind of animal the toy was. A fox, somehow I knew this girl would only want a fox. That it had to be a fox; that nothing else would do. Again I could feel her hand gently wrapping mine, I felt like I was melting, like I was quietly flowing away. All I knew, was her hand in mine. All I sensed, was her hand in mine. All I wanted, was her hand in mine as she guided me along the path between the stalls.

A squeeze on my hand called my attention; we stood in front of a souvenir stall, there were many small items on display, jewellery, straps, toys, candy and ribbons. As I looked over the items she squeezed my hand again, this time it was more insistent, like my attention was in the wrong place. I faced her, she was very close, and I could see every little detail of her mask. The tiny imperfections in the porcelain, the delicate brushstrokes that made up the lines, the lose strand of hair hanging down. Again I felt her hand, it made me look. Her left hand was in front of my chest; in it she had two black ribbons, they were beautiful.

She released my hand; I felt the cold empty void coming back, as her warmth left my hand. Then she moved behind me, and I could feel her hands in my hair. The touch of her hands sent shivers down my spine; I could felt a soft touch on my back, it was a gentle sensation and I could hardly stand. She shifted slightly, the nerves on my back burning like a wildfire from the motion. Then she stepped back, the cold empty void returning. Still other senses came, I could feel my face was burning and my legs were like jelly. Slowly I turned to face her, she was smiling, or that was the impression she gave me. All I could do was smile at her.

She raised her hand pointing into the crowd; I followed the direction with my eyes. Then I saw him, the man responsible for drug manufacturing. He was wearing a dark blue business suit; I reached for my cell phone, I had to be ready with the camera if talked to someone. He walked behind the stalls, another man approached him. This is it; I got the camera ready and started taking pictures, then a third man approached them. The conversation broke up, and they walked away.

I turned to the girl, but she was gone. Following the man in the business suit, I saw him dropping a paper napkin in trashcan then drawing a chalk line on it. Sloppy, it was sloppy but it was still tradecraft. A dead drop, so what now do follow him or stay with the drop? This is one of the oldest problems in counter-espionage. Well I let my body decide, my legs were still mushy from the feeling of the girl on back and I was feeling hungry. So I decided to stay since I was next to a food stall, this one sold fried noodles. I was eating and waiting for the recipient of the message, this might have been a diversion or maybe it's a trap. Either way as long as I stay here eating, I will at least walk away with a full stomach. I had finished my second serving and was leisurely drinking a bottle of water, as a man in a dark green suit approached the trashcan.

He quickly wiped the mark and picked up the note; it was so fast and discreet that had I not been waiting for it, I would have missed it. He had brilliant tradecraft; I snapped a photo of him, he was quite capable so following him would be hard. He had been moving towards the exit before picking up the napkin, so I decided to take a shortcut and hopefully head him of. My guess had been correct; I needed a good photo of his face so I used the tourist trap, and just then a group of tourist were looking for someone to take their photo. They had a very nice camera, the kind of camera I could only get my hands on if I filled out a mountain of requisition forms.

I snapped several pictures of the tourists; and all of them had a nice facial shot of the man, he didn't even notice. Now I just had to obtain a copy of those photos, well that was the easy part; with my left hand I swiped a spare memory card from their camera bag, and then while showing the results of my work I got ready. The moment I was handing the camera back, I swapped the cards. I talked with the tourists for a minute, before heading off towards the inn. Tonight could be brilliant, I saw the man in the green suit getting in to a car. Snapping a photo of the licence plate, I walked away.


End file.
